


Prom-ises

by storm_aurora



Series: Special Delivery [5]
Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dorks in Love, Everyone is friends, F/M, Moon is stressed, Prom, but everyone has her back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-09-27 10:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_aurora/pseuds/storm_aurora
Summary: It's prom season at Alola Academy. Although Moon's never been one for formal dances, it's her senior year and she wants to experience prom for herself just this once. But getting ready for prom isn't nearly as simple as she thought...





	1. Got a Date?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the formal writing event on Specord!

“Alright, we’ll stop here and continue this discussion next week,” Olivia announces. “Bell rings in five minutes. Put your desks back in rows, please!”

Her announcement is immediately followed by the scraping sound of desks being dragged across the floor, back to where they were at the beginning of class.

“Olivia,” a student calls out, “can we leave once we put our desks back?”

“Oh, is it Friday already?” Olivia muses. “Sure, sure. Have a good weekend, then!”

With that, about half the class – who had been keeping an eye on the clock and have already packed up their belongings – makes a beeline for the door, all vying to get out to their cars and leave before the line to leave the parking lot gets too long. The rest of us, who either didn’t drive ourselves to school or aren’t planning on leaving right away, take a bit more time to arrange the desks in evenly spaced, straight rows and pack up our things. I don’t even bother with that last part – once the desks are back in order, I pick up my backpack and gather my notes and dump them next to my favorite blue beanbag in the back corner of the classroom.

It’s a senior privilege to leave our last class a few minutes early on Fridays, but I rarely take advantage of it – history with Olivia is my last class every day, and her classroom is the best for working on homework after school. She’s one of the most chill teachers at Alola Academy, and she encourages students to call her by her first name instead of the more formal “Ms. Lychee”. The back corner of her classroom is a dedicated study space, complete with beanbags, lap desks, and adorable stuffed teddy bears to hug when things get rough. I usually spend an hour working in the study space every day, though the amount of work I actually get done varies day to day – the more friends that join me in the study space, the more likely it is to turn into a “hang out and chat” space.

Today, I’m joined by my friends Sun, Gladion, Mallow, and Hau. Aside from Gladion, they’re a pretty talkative bunch, so I predict that today’s going to be a low productivity day, as most Fridays are. Sure enough, the last straggler has only just left the room when Mallow starts talking.

“You’d think that with the end of the year coming up, the workload would be _easier_,” Mallow complains. “But _no_! I had two tests today, I have two more next week, _and _I have to finish that English essay for Monday!”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Gladion says as he pulls out his math textbook. “I have three tests next week and two essays, and that’s on top of working on Olivia’s project.”

“Oh, there’s no need to sweat about Olivia’s project,” Hau replies cheerfully, stretching his arms up over his head. “It’s a group project, and we have for_ever _to work on it!”

“If by ‘forever’ you mean ‘one week left’, then that’s true,” Gladion says, narrowing his eyes at Hau.

Hau blinks. “One week?”

“It’s due next Friday,” Mallow chimes in. “I remember ‘cause it’s due the same day as prom.”

Sun and Hau exchange an identical, horrified look.

“Oh, _shit_.”

“You guys are partnered for it, aren’t you?” I guess.

“Yes,” Sun admits meekly.

“I did say that you should pick partners at your own risk,” Olivia laughs. Sun and I glance over our shoulders to see that Olivia is standing behind us with her hands on her hips, grinning.

“H-how long have you been standing there?” Sun stammers.

“Not very long,” Olivia assures him. “I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m fixing to leave for a meeting. It shouldn’t take very long, so you can stay in here, but I’m locking the door behind me – so make sure it stays locked, okay?”

We all nod our agreement and Olivia leaves. As soon as she’s gone, Sun turns around and says, “Hey, speaking of prom, are any of you guys going?”

“I don’t do dances,” Gladion says firmly. He turns his attention back to his homework.

“Kiawe asked me two weeks ago,” Mallow says dreamily. “He made me a cookie cake to ask me and everything. We’re going to meet up for dinner at Mariano’s, and then go to the dance together. I have the most gorgeous dress picked out. It’s going to be _wonderful_.”

“Wow, Mallow, I wouldn’t have pegged you to get so sappy about this stuff,” I comment, making her blush a little.

“Well, I’m going too,” Hau chimes in. “I’m taking Lillie.”

“I’m well aware,” Gladion growls at his paper. “It’s all she’s been talking about for the last four days.” He suddenly whips his head up from his work and gives Hau a fierce glare. If Gladion was a Pokémon, Hau would definitely be paralyzed by that look. “You’d better give her a good time at that dance…”

Hau gulps. “Or…what?”

“Or else,” Gladion says coldly and returns to his work.

“Geez, I knew Gladion was protective of his sister, but that’s…wow,” Sun whispers to me. “I don’t envy being in Hau’s position right now.”

In typical Hau fashion, though, he bounces back quickly and turns to me with a cheerful smile. “What about you, Moon? Are you going to prom?”

I take a moment to mull the question over. The truth is, I haven’t been asked yet, but I wouldn’t say no if someone did ask me. But in that moment of hesitation before I give him an answer, Sun jumps in to answer for me. “Moon doesn’t really do dances, either,” he says. “She thinks they’re too loud and crowded to have fun.”

I jerk my head to look at him – surprised, but pleasantly so. I barely remembered telling him about my opinion of dances, but he’s completely right; that _is _the reason why I’ve never considered going to a dance in high school. However, I recently came to a different conclusion about prom.

“Right, that’s what I’ve always said,” I admit. “But…it _is_ our senior year, and prom is kind of a big deal. I’d like to go, just this once…just to experience it, you know?” I shrug. “No one has asked me yet, though.”

“Do you wanna go with me?” Sun blurts out immediately. I startle a little at the suddenness of his question and turn to face him.

I smile a little. “Sure, Sun. I’d love to go with you.”

Sun lets out a slightly nervous laugh. “Great! Great. That’s…great.”

I glance to my right and see the rest of the group staring expectantly at us. I panic a little inside – is there something that we’re supposed to do now to confirm that we’re going to prom together? I don’t know all the proper steps to doing something like this. I always thought it was dumb and overrated. At least Sun didn’t go all over the top making some…cheesy poster or something just to ask me to the dance. Are they – are they _waiting_ for him to pull out some cheesy poster to ask me with? Oh, no. Anything but that.

Fortunately, Sun and I are saved from our awkward silence by a conspicuous buzzing. Sun pulls out his phone and leaps to his feet. “Oh, look! It’s…it’s my dad,” he says. “Gotta go. Uh, Moon, I’ll text you later to figure out the logistics, okay?”

I offer him what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Yeah, that’s fine. Talk to you later.”

He quickly gathers his things and darts to the door. Olivia opens it just as he reaches it. He gives her a look that I can’t see from my beanbag chair, but it seems to surprise Olivia as Sun slips past her.

“What was that all about?” Olivia asks us.

“Moon just got her first prom date!” Hau exclaims.

Olivia _squeals_. “Oh my _gosh_! That’s so exciting! I’m so happy for you, girl!” She wraps an arm around me affectionately and rubs my head. “Wait, who with?”

“Sun,” I say. Olivia releases me and I slump down into my beanbag. “Oh, man. Maybe this was a bad idea. I don’t know where to even _start_ planning for prom, and I only have a week!”

“Well, you’ll need to start with getting a dress,” Mallow informs me. “You better get on that ASAP so you can text your dress color to Sun.”

My brow furrows. “Why?”

“The guy needs to know his date’s dress color so he can coordinate his outfit with her and buy her a corsage,” Hau explains.

“What the hell is a corsage?”

Mallow, Hau, Olivia, and even Gladion all exchange a look that is remarkably similar to the one Hau and Sun shared when they realized they only had a week left to do their project. I can feel my cheeks reddening, and I try my best not to let tears well up in my eyes. I can’t help it, though – it’s an instinctive reaction that I have whenever I feel inadequate, especially when there’s something I don’t know that people expect me to know. Attempting to wipe away the tears in my eyes unfortunately doesn’t help me to hide them, and now the looks range from apologetic to pitying. If I wasn’t already mortified, I definitely am now.

“This is stupid. I hate this,” I mutter to myself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, honey,” Olivia says, squeezing my shoulder. “We’ll help you figure this out. Here, why don’t I text Lana right now and ask her to go shop for a dress with you? You know Lana, right?”

“Lana might not be the best choice,” Mallow warns. “She’s probably gonna be too busy getting ready for prom herself. She and Sophocles may just be going as friends, but Lana still wants to take it as seriously as she would if she was getting an actual date.”

“Maybe we should ask a girl who’s not going to prom,” Hau suggests. “Anybody know of one?”

“Acerola,” Gladion says, causing all of us to turn and look at him. “She asked someone to prom a couple weeks ago and he said he’d get back to her. The last I heard, he hasn’t gotten back to her, so she’s probably not going. I bet she’d be willing to help.”

“Right,” I say, pulling out my phone and shooting a text to Acerola. After exchanging a few quick messages, I look up at everyone. “She’s going to meet me at the mall in 30 minutes. We’re gonna go dress shopping.”

“Perfect!” Olivia beams. “See, you don’t need to worry about a thing. You’ll be ready for prom in no time, and you’re gonna have a great time. I promise.”

But no matter how much Olivia assures me, I can’t help worrying as I leave the classroom. She can promise that I’ll have a great time, but that’s not really up to her, is it?

That’s all up to Sun and me.

* * *

> **Moon:** Are you free today? I’m having a prom emergency
> 
> **Acerola: **u bet bby ♥ what is it? dress? makeup? boutonniere?
> 
> **M: **What’s a boutonniere?
> 
> **A:** :O this is more serious than i realized
> 
> **M: **Mallow says I need a dress first.
> 
> **A: **i’m on it bby!! meet me at the mall in 30 :3


	2. Got a Dress?

Thirty minutes later, I find Acerola at the entrance to one of the more high-end department stores in the mall. She waves eagerly at me as I approach.

“Heyyy, Moon! You ready to go dress shopping?” Acerola asks.

“No,” I groan.

Acerola laughs. “Hey, we can work with that. I guarantee you’ll turn that frown upside down as soon as you take a look at some of our options!”

Seeing the dresses does not turn my frown upside down like Acerola predicts. If anything, it just deepens it. “I’m supposed to be able to wear one of these dresses?” I say, plucking a dress off a rack higher than my head and holding it up to my shoulders. Three or four inches of fabric puddle on my feet. “They’re way too long!”

“They’re supposed to be that long,” Acerola assures me, taking the dress out of my hands and putting it back on the rack. “Once you’ve got your heels on, you’ll gain a few inches, and you don’t want to show too much ankle!”

I blink, trying to ignore the panic that’s steadily gnawing away at my gut. “I-I have to wear heels to prom?”

“Of course, silly,” Acerola says cheerfully. “We’ll take care of that once we get the dress. You want to wear heels that match it, after all.”

“Oh,” I say faintly. “We have to buy heels today, too?”

Acerola seems to hear the distress in my voice, because she glances at me, purses her lips, and changes the subject. “Let’s start narrowing down our dress options. What colors do you like in a dress?”

“Darker colors, I guess?” I say with a shrug. “Blue, purple, gray, green…those are the main ones.”

“Right! Let’s get on it, then!” Acerola exclaims, and she plunges into the dress racks.

As we browse through the dresses, I quickly realize that finding a dress is going to be harder than I thought. While there may be plenty of options available in the colors I like, I have so many problems with most of them that it’s hard to pick out a dress that I could actually see myself wearing. This dress looks nice at first, but then I realize it has random holes in the torso. This dress is pretty, but the fabric feels like it will be really scratchy when I put it on. This dress is the right color, but the pattern is just ugly…and so on, and so on.

“So,” Acerola asks eventually, while the two of us are looking at dresses on the same rack. “You never told me…who is the lucky guy that you’re going to prom with?”

“Oh, right,” I say. “I’m going with Sun.”

The dress Acerola’s holding falls to the ground. I notice that her eyes are almost comically wide for a fraction of a second before she scrambles to pick up the dress she dropped. When she stands back up, she’s smiling again, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Whoops, clumsy me,” she giggles. “Congratulations, Moon! I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

We get back to looking for dresses, but I can’t help but notice that Acerola is recommending dresses for me to try on less frequently than before. Then again, it could just be that we’re starting to exhaust their supply of options, because I’m not finding dresses that I haven’t already looked at as often either. Eventually, Acerola and I meet up again, and I have four potential dresses in my arms.

“So, those are the ones you like?” Acerola asks. Her voice sounds a little strained. “Let’s go into the dressing room and try them on, then.”

Just as we get settled into a room, however, Acerola’s phone rings. She glances at it, and her lip curls up when she reads the caller ID. “I…should probably take this,” she says with a sigh. “Do you mind trying on the dresses without me?”

I shake my head, and Acerola slips outside to take her call. I try on the first dress; it’s blue satin, with spirals made of blue sequins on the skirt and long sleeves that come to a V on the back of my hands. However, after putting it on and struggling to pull the zipper all the way up on my own, I come to the realization that it’s uncomfortably tight around my arms. It would drive me crazy wearing this for a whole night.

I take off that dress and try on the next one. It’s a fairly plain deep purple gown that I picked up just because I love the color a lot. The only problem with it is that I couldn’t find it in my size – I picked up one that’s a size too small and one that’s two sizes too big, just in case it runs small or large or something. Unfortunately, both dresses fit about as well as I expected them to: that is to say, they fit poorly.

Finally, I try on the last dress. This one is sleeveless with a cream-colored torso and a gray skirt, which is covered in flowing ruffles and glitter. When I put it on, I’m almost surprised to realize that it fits really comfortably, and it looks nice when I check it out in the mirror.

A knock on my door interrupts my contemplation of the dress. “Heyyy, Moon! Mind if I come in?”

“Go ahead,” I say.

Acerola opens the door, a chipper smile on her face. When she sees me, though, it quickly fades into awe. “Oh. My. Gosh. You look gorgeous!” she exclaims. “Do a twirl for me?” I spin around obediently, the skirt of the dress flowing in my wake. “Beautiful! Oh, please tell me you like that dress. It’s perfect!”

“I love it,” I tell her.

Acerola squeals with glee. “Oh, perfect! Now, we just need to pick out a wrap or shawl to cover your shoulders in case you get cold…oh, and pick out some heels to match. I’m thinking gray is a good color, don’t you think?”

“Uh, I have a pair of black heels already, can I wear those?”

“Absolutely not!” Acerola declares vehemently.

“But that’s just another expense on top of everything else!” I protest. I don’t even dare look at the price tag for the dress I picked out – I’m almost 100% certain that it’s in the triple digits, and I don’t want to go to a prom in a dress that I don’t really like just because it’s cheaper. “I have perfectly functional heels already…”

“Perfectly functional heels that don’t go with the dress you picked out,” Acerola retorts. “C’mon, Moon, your parents are doctors–”

“_Scientists_,” I correct.

“–regardless, the point is, they can afford to splurge a little on your first prom.” Acerola gives me a pleading look that I don’t dare argue with.

“Fine, fine, we can buy heels too,” I mutter.

Acerola beams. “I can take care of makeup for you, so you don’t need to worry about that. Ooh, and I know just who to ask to do your hair! I promise, you’re gonna look fabulous for this prom!”

“Thank you, Acerola. But you’re already doing so much for me…I can’t ask you to–”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering,” she interrupts me. “If you want to take care of something yourself, why don’t you handle ordering and picking up the boutonniere?”

“I can do that,” I say. “Uh, what’s a boutonniere again?” 

* * *

> **Acerola:** heyyy hap!! u got anything going on next friday? :3
> 
> **Hapu:** I have horseback riding lessons until 3, so I am regrettably not available for lunch. Perhaps another day?
> 
> **A:** nah that’s perfect!! u remember moon right?
> 
> **H:** The black-haired girl from the year between us? She tutored you in Chemistry last year, as I recall?
> 
> **A:** that’s the one! shes going to prom next week and she needs someone to do her hair, u mind doing it for her?
> 
> **H:** What kind of style would she like? As I recall, her hair is a bit too short for an updo or braids.
> 
> **A:** shes been growing it out! its like shoulder length now ♥ and she doesn’t really care about style, she just wants something nice
> 
> **H:** I believe I can come up with something that will not take too long and look nice, too.
> 
> **A:** awesome!! my place at 5, i’m doing her makeup :3


	3. Got a Stylist?

Between schoolwork and preparing for prom, the next week goes by in a flash. The weekend is split between working on homework and texting Sun to figure out when and where to meet up before the dance. On Monday, Acerola and I head back to the mall after school to look for heels – we didn’t find any that I liked on Friday – and find a nice pair of silver ones with only a two-inch heel. On Tuesday, I spend all my free time working on my English essay, which is due Wednesday morning. On Wednesday, I spend my free period researching florists in the area and pick out one to visit after school, where I order a boutonniere – which I now know is a little flower that I’ll pin to the lapel of Sun’s jacket before the dance. On Thursday, I get together with my partner to put the finishing touches on our history project for Olivia.

Finally, Friday arrives, and with it comes a fresh round of nerves. I have no idea what to expect from prom besides a big room crowded full of people, and I guess there must be more to it than that because people wouldn’t make such a big deal about it otherwise. The idea of spending a whole night with Sun also sets butterflies fluttering in my stomach, but that fluttering feels lighter, somehow.

I hope he likes my dress.

I’m still nervous about how I’m going to look. The dress and shawl we picked out look nice together, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’ll look nice with my face. Acerola is going to do my makeup, which is a small relief; I’ve never put on makeup before in my life. She claims to have someone really good who’s going to do my hair, but she won’t tell me who it is. I don’t even know what kind of style they’re going to give me – not that I’d really know what to ask for if I could.

When I get to school, almost everyone is buzzing with excitement for prom. Conversations about it continue throughout all of homeroom, not even stopping when Principal Oak comes onto the morning announcements to remind us that we can’t go to prom unless we’re present for the whole school day. It takes my first period teacher ten minutes to get the class quiet enough to start the day’s lesson, and my second period teacher doesn’t even try to teach us – he just gives us the period off and reminds us to study for Monday’s test.

In gym class, Coach Kahili tells us to work out on the exercise machines for twenty minutes and use the rest of class to do whatever we like. For what seems like the first time that day, I’m able to appreciate a little bit of peace and quiet while we do our workouts. But of course, as soon as the first two girls finish, they start talking about some of the things that they’re going to do with their dates that night. The rest of the class is quick to follow suit. Even Lana, a junior who’s normally pretty quiet, joins in on one of the conversations.

“We’re going to see _Porygon2: Interstellar Warrior_,” Lana says. “Sophocles was looking up its critical reviews yesterday, and they say it’s even better than the first one.”

“Wait, it’s out already?” Mallow asks.

“Today’s opening day. Sophocles and I both wanted to see it, so we’re going together right after school…”

“Will you still have enough time to get ready?” Lillie asks, knitting her brow in concern.

Lana nods. “We’re getting a quick dinner at Café-Amie. And we’re not in a hurry to get there right when they open the doors or anything. It’s okay if we’re a little bit late.”

“Oh, wow, I could never do that! I want to spend as much time at the dance as I can. We’re getting there at 8 o’clock sharp so we can be first in line for the formal photos, and then it’s off to the dance floor! Kiawe promised me three slow dances tonight, but I’m aiming for at least four. I requested a _bunch_ of slow songs so they won’t run out of options!”

“Be careful, that many slow songs might put him to sleep,” I smirk. I have to admit, though, Mallow’s enthusiasm is infectious. By the time gym is over, I’m more excited than I am nervous about the upcoming dance.

I shoot Sun a smile when I walk into history class, but we don’t have time to talk – Olivia wants all of us to present our projects to the class, and she wants to get through everyone in one day. Each team’s presentation is short – less than 5 minutes – but still, the last group doesn’t finish until the final bell rings. I get up and join the throng of students rushing out the door, but I stop as soon as I get out of the doorway, waiting for Sun to slip by. We’ve both been so busy this week that we haven’t spoken in person since he asked me to prom, and I want to talk to him before then.

When I spot him, I reach out and snag his sleeve. “Psst, delivery boy,” I say, tugging him out of the crowd to stand beside a row of lockers. He grins when he sees me, which stirs a pleasant warmth in my chest.

“What can I do for you, Miss Customer?” he responds cheekily.

The nicknames are something of an inside joke between us that started back when we met in middle school. Sun’s mom was one of the science teachers there while we were attending, and she frequently made him run errands for her during homeroom. Since I was in her homeroom, I saw Sun all the time. But I didn’t know his name, so I started calling him “delivery boy” in my head. I asked him to run an errand for me one time and told him I’d give him a candy bar for his effort, to which he responded, “Sure thing, Miss Customer!” We finally learned each other’s names the next year when we actually had a class together, but we still use the old nicknames sometimes for fun.

“Are you ready for tonight?” I ask him.

“You bet!” he exclaims. “Are you?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I can’t wait to see your dress,” he says eagerly. “I bet you’ll look fabulous in it.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” I retort. “How do you know the dress I picked out isn’t hideous?”

“Because I think you look fabulous in anything,” Sun says without missing a beat. I stare at him, a blush creeping its way up my cheeks, and his eyes dart away from mine. “Um, and…Acerola wouldn’t let you buy an ugly dress, so.”

My brow furrows. How does Sun know that Acerola helped me pick out my dress? He left before the others started helping me prepare. Maybe I mentioned it while we were texting over the weekend? Ultimately, I decide that the answer’s not really that important, so I don’t bother asking the question. Instead, I just say, “Yeah, it’s a genuine Acerola-approved outfit. I guess it can’t look that bad.”

We continue to chat all the way to the parking lot, where we part ways to start literally getting ready. Sun reminds me that we have a 6:30 reservation at the restaurant where we’ll be having dinner with Lillie and Hau, and I promise to get there exactly one minute late. He laughs at that. I smile back.

By the time I leave school, I have about an hour and a half to get home, change into my dress, put on my jewelry, and get to Acerola’s house. Acerola and I had another debate on Monday about whether or not I needed to buy new jewelry to go with the dress, but I won that one. I’ve collected plenty of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings over the years, and I can always steal something from my mom if I really need to. I quibble over the jewelry for a while, but eventually I pick out a necklace that I inherited from my grandma and the bracelet that my mom bought me for my eighteenth birthday, plus a pair of earrings to match. I don’t want to drive in my dress any longer than is strictly necessary – I’m still afraid of tearing it or something – so I load the dress and all its accessories into the backseat. After that, all I have to do is grab my phone, wallet, and keys, and then it’s out to the car and over to Acerola’s house for hair and makeup.

I arrive at Acerola’s house at 4:59 and knock on the front door at 5 on the dot. When the door opens, though, it’s not Acerola on the other side. It’s not even her mom or her dad. No, it’s someone that comes as a total shock to me, who causes my jaw to literally drop open when I see her standing there.

“_Hapu_!?”

“Hello, Moon. It is good to see you again,” she says in that formal, polite way of hers. “Where is your dress?”

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I shouldn’t be that surprised to see her – she and Acerola were always pretty close, and I remember her saying that she was going to take a gap year after she graduated last May. But I haven’t seen her at all since her graduation, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to run into her again on my prom night, of all times.

“Acerola informed me that you are in need of a hair stylist,” Hapu explains. “I came here to offer my services.”

“You style hair?” I say. I cringe internally; I sound as blunt as Sun. Just because I appreciate his bluntness doesn’t mean other people do.

Hapu shakes her head, letting her thick braids bounce behind her. “My hair does not look like this naturally,” she says simply.

Acerola skids into my field of view, a big grin on her face. It quickly falls into a frown when she sees me, though. “Why aren’t you wearing your dress?” she asks.

“Uh…was I supposed to?”

“You need to,” she says. “If we’re gonna do your hair and makeup, we have to be able to see what we’re working with!”

“All my stuff’s in the car. I can go get it?”

“Please do,” Hapu says. “We will begin setting up in the kitchen.”

“There’s a bathroom under the stairs where you can change!” Acerola calls after me as I head back to the car.

After I’ve changed into my dress and put on my jewelry, I head into the kitchen, where Hapu and Acerola are waiting for me. “Ooh, you look gorgeous as ever!” Acerola exclaims when she sees me. “Don’t you agree, Hap? Told you she picked an awesome dress, huh?”

“You look very beautiful in that dress, Moon,” Hapu says softly. “But Acerola and I will make you look even more beautiful.”

Hapu guides me to a chair and instructs me to sit back as she pulls my braids out from behind my back. “You really have grown out your hair,” she comments as she undoes the braids.

Meanwhile, Acerola pulls up a chair in front of me and studies my face, glancing between it and the bottles that she has arranged on the table. “Alright, so I need to know what kind of baseline I’m working with here,” she says as she selects a bottle. “What kind of experience do you have with makeup?”

“None.”

“_None_?”

“None.”

“You’ve never used foundation?”

“Nope.”

“Concealer?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Blush? Mascara? Eyeshadow?”

“No, no, and no.”

“_Lipstick_? Surely you’ve at least used _lipstick_ before?”

“Why would I? It’s not like I _want_ to draw attention to my lips.”

Acerola rests her elbow on the table and lets her head fall into her palm. “Oh, honey,” she sighs. “We have a lot of work to do before tonight.”

She gets started with the makeup, explaining what she’s doing as she goes – “so that you can do this yourself next time!” I don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s very unlikely that there will be a next time, and even if there is, I’m not going to be doing my makeup myself. I’ve gone this far in life without ever learning how to apply makeup, and I don’t really care to start now. I try checking my phone while they work – I have a couple new texts from Sun – but between Hapu pulling on my hair and Acerola fiddling with my face, I can’t hold my phone in a position where I can actually read the screen for longer than a second. Eventually, I just give up and half-heartedly listen to what Acerola is saying.

After a hundred bobby pins, a coating of makeup thick enough to be a second layer of skin, and enough hairspray to make me choke, Hapu and Acerola are finally done. They step back to admire their work from a distance and the smiles on their faces that stretch from ear to ear tell me how they feel about it before they’ve even said a word.

“Oh, Moon…you look _lovely_.”

“I’d also use…stunning, magnificent, marvelous, and exquisite!” Acerola beams. “Come with me, you _need_ to see how amazing you look right now!”

Acerola grabs my hand and pulls me into the master bedroom, where a full-length mirror is mounted on the far wall. Hapu joins us a moment later with my heels and shawl, the former which she places on the ground for me to slip on and the latter which she drapes over my shoulders. I let the ends of the shawl fall down over my arms and step over in front of the mirror to look at myself.

I look _georgeous_. There’s no other way to describe it. My skirt glitters in the light and falls over my legs, the ruffles on it flowing in waves. The bodice of the dress is a pale cream color, with a nearly transparent layer of fabric layered on top of it that includes lots of swirling silver designs. A thin strap of gray wraps around my neck and holds up the bodice of the dress. The shawl is plain on its own – a long piece of cream-colored gossamer fabric, but it frames the hem of the dress perfectly and falls down in front in a way that mimics the ruffles of the skirt. My grandma’s necklace is a single strand of pearly white beads punctuated by silver ones that encircles my neck right above the neckline of the dress, while the bracelet and earrings are pure silver and punctuated by rhinestones. They perfectly match the pattern on my silver heels, though the heels can only be seen when I deliberately poke them out from underneath the dress’s skirt. My hair has been pulled back and pinned up behind my head with a little bit of slack, so it poofs up a little in the front, and there are two curled strands that frame the sides of my face. Meanwhile, the makeup has done some magic on my skin – my face has never looked so smooth before, my eyebrows are clearly defined, and my eyes seem to pop out on my face in a way that they never do naturally. I look like I’ve suddenly grown about four years older – nearly graduating college, rather than high school.

I can’t help but smile in awe as I look at my reflection. I’ve never looked this beautiful before. “Thank you, guys,” I whisper. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Acerola says, while Hapu states, “It was no trouble at all.”

Acerola walks with me out to my car, carrying my phone, wallet, and keys while I hold up the skirt of my dress so it doesn’t get dirty dragging on the ground. Once I’m settled into the driver’s seat, she hands them over to me. “Drive safe,” she says, giving me a wistful smile. “And have an awesome time.”

“I’m sorry the guy you asked didn’t agree to go with you,” I say. “I would have liked you to come, too.”

Acerola’s smile falls a little, and she glances at the ground. “If you knew who I asked, you wouldn’t say that.”

I blink. “What? Who did you ask?”

She bites her lip for a moment and then sighs. “I asked Sun.” My eyes widen, but Acerola continues talking before I can respond. “Hey, hey, don’t go feeling all guilty now! He was already thinking about asking you when I asked him. Me asking just further motivated him. Besides…” Acerola looks me in the eye and smiles genuinely. “Sun really, really likes you, Moon. He’s really happy about going to prom with you.”

A warm, tingly feeling wells up in my heart and spreads throughout my body. “Y-you sure?”

“Definitely,” Acerola declares. “Now, you go out there and show Sun a great time for the both of us, alright?”

I nod, swallowing past the lump that suddenly formed in my throat. “I will. That’s a promise.”

* * *

> **Sun: **fyi
> 
> **S: **my mom’s going to fawn over us and take all sorts of pictures before we go in
> 
> **S: **be prepared
> 
> **Moon: **I’m suddenly so glad that my dad’s swamped with work today
> 
> **S: **he’s a photo hog too?
> 
> **M: **he’s a photo *fanatic*. Picky enough to be a professional. Loves taking photos of everything.
> 
> **S: **sounds a lot like my mom
> 
> **S: **except
> 
> **S: **her photos suck
> 
> **M: **Sun, that’s rude
> 
> **S: **i merely speak the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be up two weeks from now because it's a long one and I'm also back in school now, so I don't have as much free time on my hands. But our favorite dorks will finally get to prom, so get excited for it :D


	4. Got a Dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks, two months...eh, same difference, right? I hope this _monster_ of a chapter is enough to make up for it. I would've split it in two, but I wanted to keep up the structure of the story (where each chapter ends with a text conversation) and I didn't want to force an extra text thread in here somewhere.

When I arrive at the restaurant, Sun and his mom are already waiting outside. He’s wearing a gray tuxedo with a vibrant orange tie. His hair has been gelled back to look nice and sleek. It’s not a very drastic difference from his usual look, but it’s definitely a nice one. Sun is fiddling with the inside of his left sleeve as I approach them, so it’s his mom who spots me first.

“Ooooh, Moon, don’t you look lovely!” she exclaims. Sun’s head jerks up, and his jaw literally drops open when he catches sight of me.

“Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies,” I tease. He closes his mouth slowly, then reopens it again, like he wants to say something but can’t figure out how to put it into words.

Sun’s mom provides a convenient distraction for him. “Here, you have to put this on her,” she instructs, holding out a plastic container to Sun. There are flowers inside, so I assume it’s my corsage. “Then we can start taking pictures!”

Sun winces slightly and gives me an apologetic smile. I shrug and step up to his side, taking the boutonniere out of the container I’m holding. I pin it to his jacket right over his heart. He takes out the corsage – a pretty arrangement of cream-colored flowers on a wire bracelet – and wraps it around my bare wrist. I put my wallet and keys down on the edge of a planter behind us. Then we turn to face Sun’s mom and her camera of choice – her cell phone.

“C’mon, get a little closer together!” she calls. “You’re allowed to be touching, I don’t mind,” she adds with a wink.

I roll my eyes and step close enough to Sun’s side that our arms brush together. He quickly moves his, though, and before I have time to wonder why he’s wrapped his arm over my shoulders. Instinctively, I stiffen up – I’m not used to this kind of casual contact, so I can’t help feeling a little uncomfortable. Then, Sun pulls me into his side so that I’m resting against him. Strangely enough, the extra contact is reassuring – a reminder that this is an intentional gesture; I’m not invading Sun’s personal space. I relax into his hold and smile for the camera.

As promised, Sun’s mom takes a copious number of pictures of the two of us before letting us go inside. Sun offers to carry my wallet and keys in the pocket of his jacket, since I don’t have a purse to carry them in. I gratefully take him up on the offer.

Lillie and Hau are already seated at a table when we enter the restaurant, and Hau waves us over before we’ve approached the hostess stand. I recognize a few other people from my classes who are also eating dinner here. I’m not surprised – it’s a nice restaurant, and it’s close enough to the prom venue that we can walk straight there once we finish dinner. Lillie and Hau leave earlier than us because they’re going to change into their formal clothes at the venue, which I almost wish I’d thought of doing; as it is, I have to be very careful not to spill any of my dinner on my dress.

Sun and I wind up arriving at the prom venue around 8:15. Plenty of other students are arriving at the same time, so we follow the crowd in the direction of the ballroom. Along the way, we pass by Sun’s dad, who’s on chaperone duty – stopping random students and doing a breathalyzer test on them, to make sure no one’s been drinking beforehand. Alola Academy doesn’t have a huge problem with underage drinking, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen on occasion. Sun and I are most definitely _not _drunk, and Sun really doesn’t want to get stopped by his dad for a breathalyzer test, so we walk past him as far away from the center of the hallway as possible.

“Have you ever gotten drunk before?” Sun asks suddenly, once we’re out of earshot of his dad.

“What? No!” I say indignantly. “_If _I were to drink alcohol – which I haven’t, because I’m underage–”

“Yeah, that’s – that’s what I meant. Sorry,” Sun says. “Just wondering if you’d drunk alcohol before.”

“Well, no,” I say. “Have you?”

“My dad gave me a sip of his beer once. It was _awful_,” he declares. “I swore off drinking after that.” After a pause, he adds, “Plus, my mom says I’m not allowed to get drunk. My filter’s bad enough as it is, the last thing I need is something to loosen up my tongue even more.”

That gets a chuckle out of me, and a grin from Sun. We continue down the hallway and see that people seem to be splitting into two lines, one on each side of the hallway. Sun volunteers to run down and see what the lines are for. When he comes back, he informs me that the line on the left is to enter the ballroom and the line on the right is for formal photos.

“The last thing we need is _more _photos,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Actually,” Sun grimaces, “my mom wants us to take one.”

“Then why’d she take all those pictures earlier?” I complain.

“W-well, this is with a professional photographer, and they print them out and frame them and everything. It’s really nice, and much better than the photos she took.” He shrugs and gives me another one of those apologetic smiles.

I sigh. “Fine, we can take a formal photo. But can’t we wait until the line goes down?”

“It doesn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Last year, we decided we’d wait to get a photo and wound up spending half the dance standing in line for one.”

“Ouch,” I wince. “Guess we’d better get in line, then.”

There are a lot of couples here; some people I know, and plenty more that I don’t. Lillie and Hau are in line for formal photos, a few people ahead of us – clearly, she learned her lesson from last year, too. Lana and Sophocles have just gotten in line to enter the ballroom. I’m surprised to see a guy with distinctive pink hair in front of them – Ilima, the most popular boy in the junior class. My surprise comes not because he’d have any shortage of girls to ask, but because he already has a girlfriend that he’s been dating since freshman year. However, she graduated last year, and I don’t think you’re allowed to bring dates that aren’t in high school.

To my surprise, though, a tall blonde girl approaches him and greets him with a kiss on the cheek – Mina, Ilima’s long-time girlfriend. Judging by the fancy pink dress she’s wearing and the fact that her hair isn’t paint-splattered like usual, it seems she’s going to prom with Ilima after all.

Sun nudges me and points in their direction. “Is that even allowed?” he asks me. “She’s in college now, right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I guess she’s not going to let something as trivial as graduation stop her from going with him to prom three years in a row.”

“Maybe they’re going for a record,” Sun says, grinning. “It would be pretty impressive to make it to junior-senior prom all four years of high school.”

“Sounds dreadful,” I snort.

It winds up taking about 20 minutes for us to get to the front of the line and get our picture taken. It’s nothing fancy; we pose the same way we did for Sun’s mom. The only difference is the higher quality camera and background. As it turns out, Sun’s decision was pretty smart after all; by the time we’re done, there’s almost no line to enter the ballroom and the line for pictures is even longer than it was when we arrived. Sun holds out his elbow, and I hook my arm through it. We make our way into the ballroom.

Immediately, I’m assailed with stimuli from all sides. There are people everywhere – dancing and talking and standing around. There’s a pop song blasting through the giant speakers. The lights are dimmed except for the colorful ones aimed at an area in front of us that I assume is the dance floor. Tables are scattered around near the walls. They stand at chest height so people can stand and talk at them. I don’t know why anyone would want to talk at them though. It’s so loud in here that I can barely hear myself think. Is this what dances are like? Why would anyone _want_ to go to one of these things?

Sun tugs on my arm and I glance over at him. He’s trying to say something, but I can’t hear him over the din in the ballroom. I point a finger at my ear and then hold my hand out in a helpless gesture to indicate to him as much.

He leans closer to my ear and shouts, “Stick close to me!”

I nod – because it’s not like I was planning on doing anything different – and I follow Sun as he weaves through the crowd with a lot more ease than I’m able to manage in my long dress and heels. I was glad when I found them that their heels weren’t too tall because it made the shoes more comfortable to wear, but now I’m almost regretting it; I keep stepping on the edge of my dress and nearly tripping. Eventually I wind up unhooking my arm from Sun’s so that I can grab my skirt and hold it up above my feet like a medieval princess trying to keep her dress from getting dirty. This jostles my shawl, though, so I tie the ends of it in front of my torso to keep it in place.

A few of the people that we pass are holding plastic cups of water or little plastic plates. I’m still pretty full from dinner, but I am a little thirsty. I wonder if they have anything other than water to drink. Actually, maybe that’s where Sun is taking me. He’d never pass up free food.

When we weave through one of the corners of the room, I notice several pairs of heels piled up near the wall. Are those girls really just walking around barefoot? What if someone tried to steal their heels? Why would they even bother wearing heels to the dance if they’re just going to take them off right away? I can understand why they’d want to take off their heels, certainly; I’m not looking forward to the hours ahead of us that I’ll be stuck in my heels. But that’s part of the reason I liked these heels so much in the first place; I feel like I can go three hours in them without much discomfort. I ignore the twinge of pain that I’m already starting to feel in the back of my feet and hurry after Sun.

Soon enough, we reach an area in the back of the room set up with refreshments – just cookies and water, it seems. Sun immediately starts helping himself to the contents of a tray while I investigate all three tables that have cookie trays on them to see what kinds of cookies are available. To my disappointment, it looks like they’re all chocolate chip. Not that I don’t like chocolate chip cookies, they’re just…a little boring. I grab a cookie and a glass of water and maneuver my way through the crowd back to Sun, trying not to step on the hem of my dress.

When I find him, he’s holding a half-eaten cookie in one hand and has at least five piled up on a plate in the other. I roll my eyes. “The cookies aren’t going anywhere, Sun.”

“_What?_” he yells.

“_I said, the cookies aren’t going anywhere!_” I yell back.

He grins. “_They’re going into my stomach!_”

The corners of my lips twitch upwards, and Sun’s grin gets even bigger. He puts the unfinished cookie into the pile on his plate and takes my wrist in his now freed hand, then jerks his head in the direction of the far wall, opposite the door we entered. Catching on, I follow him to that corner of the room.

That corner, as it turns out, holds a little photo booth. It’s the kind where they have a table full of gaudy accessories like giant glasses and feather boas that you can put on for the photos, and you pose for three different pictures in succession – there was a similar one at my cousin’s wedding reception a few years back. Mallow, Kiawe, and Lana are all posing right now, and there’s a small line of people waiting to take their own pictures. I realize that Sun is pulling me towards the end of the line and stop dead, digging my heels in a little when he keeps going. My heels dig back, causing a brief spike of pain on the top of my feet, near my toes.

Sun glances back at me and tilts his head quizzically. I shake my head. He moves closer to me, so I don’t have to shout. “Haven’t we taken enough photos already?”

“Aw, but those are all formal and boring! These are just for fun!”

“I don’t want to,” I insist petulantly. It’s really not that much fun to dress up for the photo booth, and I don’t even have a clue what kind of poses we could do. I’m not twelve years old anymore – anything I do would just look stupid.

Sun pouts. “Fine, we’ll come back to the photo booth later. For now, let’s go dance!”

“With those?” I ask, gesturing to the pile of cookies on his plate.

He looks down at the plate and pops the rest of the half-eaten cookie into his mouth. Then he puts the plate down on a table nearby. “I’ll come back for those,” he says, spewing out a couple of crumbs. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Let’s go!”

Having already finished my cookie, I quickly gulp down my last sips of water and trail after Sun to the most brightly lit area of the room. Calling it the “dance floor” turns out to be more literal than I expected – the tile floor of the ballroom has been covered with panels of wooden flooring, edged by rubber ramps to keep people from tripping on it. There’s barely any room around the edges for us to get onto the dance floor, but Sun doesn’t seem bothered by it. He squeezes between a couple of people who are facing away from each other and I slide after him.

I don’t really know where he’s going – the whole floor seems pretty packed. His head is already bobbing to the rhythm of the song. It’s some upbeat tune that I hear on the radio sometimes, but I don’t know what it’s called and I barely know any of the lyrics. It’s some cheesy love song about dancing with a girl at a club or something. A couple of the people that we push past wave at Sun, and he waves back. I don’t have a clue who they are.

Someone accidentally bumps into me and knocks my shawl off – the tie had come undone without me noticing. They apologize as I pick up my shawl and put it back over my shoulders, tying it more tightly this time. Then I hurry to catch up to Sun.

He finally stops when reaches a little pocket on the dance floor where there aren’t as many people. He turns back to face me and starts to dance. He’s just kinda waving his arms around and moving his torso to the beat of the song and, quite frankly, it looks a little dumb. “Come on!” he shouts to me, moving his head forward and backwards. “Just dance!”

He says it like it’s easy to stand in a crowd and make a fool of yourself. I have no desire to embarrass myself by copying whatever the heck Sun is doing, but I don’t know how to dance in a way that looks good, either. I sway a little in place, still clutching my empty water cup in one hand. Apparently, that’s enough to appease Sun, since he switches his attention back to his bizarre motions. Now he’s jumping around a bit while he moves, and even the thought of jumping around in these heels makes my feet throb.

On second thought, maybe the jumping doesn’t have anything to do with it. My feet _hurt_. So much for the low heels being less painful.

Kiawe and Mallow stumble out of the crowd of dancers to my right, laughing like drunken idiots. For a moment, I think that they might actually be drunk, and they managed to sneak past the teacher chaperones. But then Sun waves to them and approaches them, and they straighten up and return his greeting.

I think they’re having a conversation, but I can’t hear it even standing a few feet away from them. I don’t want to shout until my voice gets hoarse for the sake of having a conversation, and I’m also tired of awkwardly standing here and pretending to dance. The longer I stand still, the more my feet ache. I turn to my left – away from Sun, Kiawe, and Mallow – and slip into the crowd. I’m half-hoping to hear one of them call my name or stop me and ask me where I’m going, but no one does. I leave the dance floor completely unnoticed.

The only item on my to-do list right now is finding a trash can to throw away my cup. As I pause and glance around to try to spot one, I spot Mina a few feet away and make the mistake of making eye contact with her. She smiles at me and greets me, and now I’m forced to make awkward conversation with her. We were in the same group for a big physics project last year, but I wouldn’t exactly consider us friends. I don’t know anything about her besides the fact that she’s an artist. At least it’s a little quieter over here, so I don’t have to scream to make my voice heard. Eventually, I manage to use my empty water cup as an excuse to get away. Mina points me in the direction of a trash can, and I give her a grateful nod before hastily stepping away.

After throwing away the cup, I navigate through the crowds to the only corner I haven’t been to, the farthest one from the entrance to the ballroom. It’s located on the edge of the building, so there are several windows along the walls with relatively wide windowsills. A couple of them already have some people sitting in them or standing in front of them, but I manage to find an unoccupied windowsill that no one is standing near and sit down in it.

I let out a sigh of relief at the release of some of the pressure on my feet. They still ache a little where the heels have been rubbing against my skin – I wouldn’t be surprised if there are blisters under there – and I can’t wait until I can leave this stupid dance and take the dumb shoes off. I notice that the tie on my shawl has come undone – _again_ – and I retie it with a huff of frustration.

“Stay tied, you dumb thing,” I mutter.

I look out the window, watching as people walk along the street three stories below. I’d say they look happy, but I can’t actually see their faces from this far away. I’m sure they’re happier than me, though – getting to walk around doing something they enjoy, not just something they feel obligated to do. I could be getting lost in research right now, or playing a video game, or watching a movie, or – hell, even browsing social media would be more entertaining than this dance right now. I can’t even have that luxury; I left my phone in the car so I wouldn’t have to carry it around the ballroom all night. I’m really, really regretting that decision now.

This – this is exactly why I’ve never gone to a dance before. I’ve been dragged along with my parents to similar social events before, and they’re all the same. There’s barely anything to do, and all the stuff that there is to do is stupid and pointless. I don’t know why I thought that trying to go to a dance would be a good idea. I’m tired, I’m miserable, and I just want to go home.

“Moon! There you are!” Sun’s voice drags me out of my melancholy thoughts, and I glance over in his direction. “I was talking to Kiawe and Mallow and…” His voice trails off as his eyes flick over me, taking in my folded arms, hunched shoulders, and grim expression. His smile fades and his brow creases. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I snap.

“What’s wrong?”

I glance away from him, not responding. He doesn’t deserve my snappiness, but I can’t bring myself to feign a better attitude. It’s not him I’m mad at; it’s me. Me and that dumb decision I made to tell my friends that I wanted to go to prom and stupid social norms and–

“Moon?” Sun’s voice is closer now, laced with concern.

“My heels are hurting my feet,” I finally say.

“Um…why don’t you just take them off?” he says, clearly puzzled by the fact that I haven’t resorted to what he thinks is an obvious solution.

But Sun just doesn’t _get it_ – he doesn’t _understand_. He can’t understand. He’s too oblivious to notice these kinds of social cues. Normally it’s cute, but now it’s just infuriating, because it means he can’t understand what the root of it all is – the reason why I can’t be _happy _here.

I turn my head back around to glare at him as I say, “I can’t just walk around the dance barefoot, Sun. It’s not _right_.”

Sun tilts his head quizzically and glances at the floor around him. “Plenty of other girls have taken off their heels, though?”

I groan in frustration and dig the palms of my hands into my eyes. “I don’t know why they did that, Sun. But you’re not supposed to go walking around barefoot in public and leaving your shoes all over the place, and I’m not going to do that, either.”

“Well, yeah, in _public_,” Sun says. “But we’re not in public. We’re at prom.”

I blink and lower my hands. Sun has moved to sit across from me in the windowsill. He pulls off each of his shoes with one hand and tosses them carelessly to the ground. “Wh…what are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m taking my shoes off,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” he says. He pulls his legs up into the windowsill, crosses them, and turns to face me as much as he can without falling off. He offers me a little grin. “That’s the secret to having fun at prom.”

My brow creases, and I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re overthinking this. You don’t have to follow all the usual societal norms at prom.” He nudges me with an elbow. “Besides, I thought you weren’t the type to care about societal norms, Miss Customer.”

“I’m not,” I say indignantly. “But if I’m going to have a normal prom experience, I have to follow the societal norms.”

Sun snorts. “There’s no such thing as a _normal_ prom experience, Miss Customer. And even if there was, I think it would involve more rule-breaking than rule-following. Your prom experience is whatever you make of it.”

“Well, there’s not much I can make of it,” I snap. “All my prom experience has done is confirm what I already thought – _dances aren’t fun_. So just…leave me to wallow in my misery and go have fun by yourself ‘til this stupid dance is over.”

Sun’s expression falls, and now I feel guiltier because I’ve just gone and snapped at him _again_, when he was only trying to help me feel better. “Sorry,” I mutter at his hands, though he probably can’t hear it over the music.

“But, Moon…dances aren’t fun to experience by yourself. That’s why I wanted to go with you.”

My head snaps back up, and I meet his eyes – they’re open and earnest. My stomach churns as I suddenly realize how bratty and selfish I’ve been acting. Sun didn’t have to go to prom with me; Acerola would have happily gone with him instead. He asked me because he really _wanted _to go with me, and how do I repay him for that decision? By abandoning him on the dance floor to go sulk in a corner? Just this morning, I was excited to spend the whole night with Sun. Now I’m just pushing him away.

“If you really don’t think you can have fun, then…” Sun swallows, and he looks down at his hands. “I won’t force you to do anything. And I’m sorry for dragging you to this dance in the first place. But…” He looks back up at me and gives me one of his typical bright grins. “I’d really like to experience this dance _with_ you, Moon. I think if you just relax and give it a shot, you’ll have a lot of fun!”

I think of my promise to Acerola – _show Sun a great time for the both of us, alright?_

I think of Olivia’s promise to me – _you’re gonna have a great time. I promise._

They both believed in me, but I’ve barely even tried to have a good time. I can’t let them down.

The selfish, logical part of my brain says that I’m placing far too much importance on a dance that’s going to have no importance in the grand scheme of things. The selfish, logical part of my brain needs to _shut up_ and let me have fun.

“Okay,” I tell Sun, managing a hint of a smile. “Let’s do this together.”

Sun beams back.

He slips out of the windowsill while I pull my heels off my feet and put them neatly on the floor, underneath the window. Sun places his dress shoes next to mine. I glance at his socked feet, then look at him. “Aren’t you going to put your shoes back on?” I ask.

“Nah,” he says, shrugging and smiling. “Like I said before, that’s the secret to having fun at a dance – you can do basically whatever the heck you want, and no one cares!”

I purse my lips thoughtfully. He’s right – everyone is focused on themselves and their friends, so why would they care what I do? More importantly, why should I care if they care? This is my prom experience. Nobody is stopping me from doing whatever I want to have fun except myself. I finger the ties of my shawl, which have come undone again. A small smile blooms across my face as I shrug the shawl off my shoulders and toss it to the floor by our shoes.

“Let’s try this again,” I say. “Where to, delivery boy?”

“Photo booth?” he suggests.

“Sounds good,” I reply.

He bounces a little on his feet and hooks his arm in mine. He doesn’t even need to give it a tug before I’m following him to get in line for the photo booth.

The line for the booth isn’t too long, so we don’t have to wait very long before we reach the table with all the silly accessories on it. The feathery boas catch my eye, and I pick one that’s almost as thick as my arm and colored silver like the skirt of my dress that I wrap around my neck. The couple in front of us quickly changes their accessories between shots, and one of them drops a pretty gold-leaf circlet on the table. I grab it and place it gently on my head, trying not to mess up my hair.

“Moon, Moon!” Sun exclaims. I glance at him and see that he’s put on a goofy red-and-white striped hat and he’s holding two masks in his hands. One of them is a sequin-covered black domino mask and the other is a shiny metallic magenta mask with a gold-colored rod attached to it.

“I like that one better,” I say, pointing to the domino mask.

“Good! You can wear it, then!” Sun says, handing it to me. “We can have matching masks!”

“These masks do not match even the slightest bit,” I point out. I put on the domino mask anyways.

There’s a small mirror on the table, right next to the rack of hats. Sun steps in front of it and holds the mask up to his face using the metal rod, checking his reflection. “How do we look?” he asks.

He steps aside to let me check my own reflection. “We look stupid,” I announce.

Sun grins. “That’s the point!”

The couple in front of us finishes their photo shoot and steps aside to wait for their photos to print out. The guy running the booth gestures us forward and tells us to stand in front of the machine holding the camera. A screen on the machine lights up with a preview of what the camera is seeing. A timer appears in the upper-left corner and begins counting down from 15. As it counts down, I realize something.

“I have no idea what poses to do.”

“Neither do I,” Sun replies cheerfully. “You’ll think of something!”

“That doesn’t help!”

The timer is at seven seconds now. Sun’s holding the mask up to his face and throwing up an okay sign with his other hand. I fold my arms, then unfold them, then fold one of them and hold the other one up to my face in a pose that I hope looks thoughtful.

The camera snaps the first picture.

Our image stays on the screen for a few seconds before being replaced by the live feed again, and the timer is again counting down from fifteen. “Wow, okay, quick turnaround,” I mutter to myself. I decide to play around with the border of the camera a little, folding my arms and leaning back so that it looks like I’m leaning against the edge of the frame. Sun mirrors my position on the opposite side, though he can only fold one arm because he’s busy holding up his mask with the other.

The camera snaps the second picture.

Once again, the screen displays the image it captured for a few seconds before the timer starts counting down again. I have a vague idea in mind for a pose for this one – something that looks wily or mischievous. I hold my chin in my palm and lean forward, smirking. I glance up to see what Sun is doing, and he also has a mischievous grin on his face. But he’s not doing any sort of pose. He also abandoned his mask. “Sun, what are you–”

With a bark of laughter, Sun jumps onto my back. I let out an undignified yelp and stagger forward under the additional weight. I curl my arms underneath Sun’s legs to support him better and lean forward to adjust my center of gravity. But as much as I try to fight it, gravity wins in the end, and Sun and I crash to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

I wave away the people who rush to help us up and glance over at Sun. His hat has fallen off, and the gel that was holding his wild curls in place has started to lose its strength. He’s also, predictably, grinning widely. “You did your best, Miss Customer, but even the mighty must fall.”

Maybe it’s not the appropriate reaction. I just took a pretty rough fall, in front of a crowd of people, completely ruining our last picture. Sun’s attempt at a quip doesn’t even really make sense. But something about his loosened curls, his bright smile, and his cheeky words just make a warm feeling bubble up inside of me. I let it out in a burst of laughter. Sun laughs too.

Maybe I can be happy at prom after all.

When our laughter dies down, Sun helps me to my feet and back over to the accessory table. I take off my boa and mask while Sun returns his hat. Then, we head over to the side of the machine, where our photos have printed out. Sun picks them up from the tray – four identical strips with our three photos printed on each, along with a simple border and a caption on the bottom to remind us that these photos are from Alola Academy prom.

Sun snorts upon seeing the photos and hands two strips to me. I can’t hold back a chuckle myself. The first two photos look pretty good, but the last one…

“Is that your hand or mine?” Sun asks, holding a photo strip up to better catch the dim lights.

“It’s gotta be yours, my hands were stuck under your legs,” I say.

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. I can see a little bit of my sleeve next to the edge there.”

“You should say that more often.”

“The edge there?”

“That I’m right.”

“You usually are,” Sun says with a casual shrug.

I stare at him for a moment, blinking a couple of times. Then I smirk. “Can you tell that to my sister?”

“Sure,” Sun laughs. “Now, how about we give it another go on the dance floor?”

My smile fades. “Do we have to?”

“It’d be pretty silly to go to a dance and not do any dancing,” Sun points out.

“Yeah, but…dancing is hard,” I say.

Sun laughs at that, and I try my best not to look offended. “If you’re on a professional dance troupe, maybe. But dancing like this, dancing for fun? It’s a piece of cake!”

“A piece of stale fruitcake, maybe.”

“You only say that because you’re not really trying,” Sun declares, putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing me towards the dance floor. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

Thankfully, he stops at the edge of the dance floor this time rather than pushing between people to try to find an empty spot. He spins me around to face him and then takes a step back. “The trick to dancing is listening for the beat,” he explains, pointing a finger in the air. “Listen.”

I listen to the music blasting out of the speakers. It’s a moderately peppy tune, with the singer saying something about waking up to see the sunshine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before, though. Sun’s foot is tapping in a steady rhythm, not that I can hear it, but I can see his foot moving up and down.

“Once you’ve got a feel for the beat, you just start moving!” Sun’s head begins to bob in sync with his foot, quickly followed by his torso moving from side to side. When he starts shaking his fists in front of him at the same time as some of the words of the song, I realize that all his movements are timed to match up with notes in the song. He ends his little routine by spinning on one foot and planting the other in time with the last note of the song. He adds a flourish of jazz hands once he stops moving. “See? It’s that simple!”

I shake my head as a new song starts playing. “Simple, maybe. But not easy. How am I supposed to know what notes to move to?”

“Well, you can move to whatever notes you want to, really,” Sun says. “You don’t even need to do that much. If you want, just tap your foot on the downbeats ‘till you’re comfortable doing more!”

“Downbeats?”

Sun blinks. “You don’t know what a downbeat is?”

Automatically, I hunch in on myself a little and shift my gaze to the floor. “I’m not a musician.”

“I know that, but…” Sun trails off. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. You can move to whatever notes you want to, honestly. Just do whatever feels right.”

“I’ll look dumb,” I protest, looking up at him. He’s smiling again.

“Dancing like this isn’t about how you look,” he says. “Like I said before, nobody’s paying attention to you. Just relax, feel the beat, and let your body groove to it. It’s fun!”

Sun starts dancing again. This time, I try tapping my foot to the rhythm of his motions – or at least, as close to them as I can. Eventually, I realize that my foot-tapping is going at about the same pace as the song – a steady pulse, like a heartbeat. So that’s what Sun means by the beat of the song. All I have to do is keep that beat and–

The song ends before I can attempt an actual dance move.

A new song starts up immediately after, though, and I try to find the pulse of this one. When I think I’ve found it, I glance over at Sun to check that my pulse matches his. I feel a rush of pride when I realize that it does. Now that I’ve found the beat, I try moving in time with my tapping foot. It’s more difficult than Sun makes it look, but eventually I manage to make my foot, head, and arms all move together. I catch Sun’s eye and he grins.

“Lookin’ good!” he calls.

The song changes again, and this time it’s one I actually recognize. I don’t know what it’s called, but the phrase “light it up” gets repeated a lot in it. So, I try my usual moves – tapping my foot, bobbing my head, waving my arms – but this time, when the song gets to the first use of the phrase “light it up”, I raise my hands into the air and pump them a couple times before lowering them again. I do it again the next time the phrase is used, and again, and again, and I realize that I’m enjoying trying to time my motions to match the song.

“Hey, this dancing thing is actually kinda fun.”

“Told ya!” Sun crows, winking at me.

We continue to dance, and the longer we go, the more comfortable I get with my dancing. I switch it up a bit when I can – throwing in a slide, a spin, a little hop whenever it feels right. On a couple of the songs, Sun starts obnoxiously singing along to the song in addition to his dancing. I don’t think I’m going to be trying that out anytime soon. But even without the singing, I quickly discover that dancing is quite a bit of a workout, and I’m losing steam for it pretty quickly.

At the next song change, I stop dancing and take a step back from the dance floor. Sun notices and stops dancing as well. He scampers over to me and puts a hand on my arm.

“You okay?” he asks.

I take a few big gulps of air, trying to slow down my breathing. “I think…I need a drink,” I pant.

“Sounds like a great idea,” Sun says, sounding a little winded himself. “Um – you are talking about the nonalcoholic kind, right?”

I roll my eyes. “No, I thought…we’d sneak out of the dance and…go grab a drink illegally.” When his eyes widen, I give him a playful nudge. “That was sarcasm, Sun.”

“Oh. Right,” he says sheepishly. He hooks his arm through mine and points to the refreshment tables. “To the drinks!”

We each grab a glass of water and quickly gulp them down. While I refill my glass, Sun throws his away and goes hunting for his plate of cookies. After a workout like that, I could use a little sugar myself. I take a swallow of my new glass and start heading towards the cookie trays.

“A-lo-la!” a singsong voice calls out right next to my ear, making me jump. I don’t even have to turn to know who it is – there’s only one person at Alola Academy who uses the school’s name as a greeting.

“Hi, Hau,” I say.

“What do you think of prom so far?” he asks.

I shrug. “It’s good.”

“That wasn’t very enthusiastic for someone who’s at their first dance,” Hau pouts. “Aren’t you enjoying it?”

“It was a little hard at first. I didn’t really know what to do,” I admit. “But Sun’s showing me, so I’m having more fun now.”

“That’s great!” Hau beams. “He went with Lillie last year, you know. But I don’t think either of them had a good time. I’m really happy that he’s getting the chance to have a way better prom experience!”

I think of the way I shunned him for the whole first half of the dance – not wanting to do anything with him, leaving him on the dance floor, pushing him away when he was trying to help me. “I don’t know about that,” I say to the floor.

“Hey, chin up, Moon!” Hau says. He literally puts a hand under my chin and pushes it upwards, so I’m forced to make eye contact with him. “As his best friend, I think I’m qualified to say that I know Sun. And I can tell you that getting to spend time with you and knowing that you’re having fun? That’s _definitely _going to make him happy.” He nods firmly and smiles. “So, I think you’re doing everything right.”

I feel my cheeks heating up a little. “Thanks, Hau.”

“No problem!” he says, letting his hand fall away from my face. Then his brow furrows and he glances around, as though just realizing that we’re alone. “Where is Sun, anyways?”

“He was going to get his plate of cookies,” I say, nodding in the direction he went off in. “Where’s Lillie?”

“Bathroom,” Hau says. His face suddenly lights up. “Hey, I just had a great idea! Have you guys been to the photo booth yet?”

Despite my assurances that _yes, we have been to the photo booth, Hau_, he’s insistent that Sun and I take a series of photos with him. He and Sun have been best friends “since forever”, in his words, and they have to commemorate the first time both of them have been to a school dance.

“Wait, you didn’t go to prom last year?”

“Nah. Our family reunion was the same weekend, and Grandpa said a school dance wasn’t a good enough reason to skip out.”

I shake my head. “I still find it hard to believe sometimes that you and Coach Hala are related.”

Sun eagerly agrees to Hau’s proposition, and the three of us get back in line for the photo booth. Lillie joins us just before we reach the table with accessories, soon enough for it to be awkward. I think about asking if they took pictures at the photo booth last year, but after looking at the strained smiles they give each other I decide that I don’t really need to know.

For the second round of photos, Sun picks out a crazy hat with shimmering green snakes sticking out of it and a pair of big blue sunglasses with blinders. I choose a felt disc-shaped shield to hold and a pair of matching sunglasses; I consider adding a purple witch’s hat as well, but then I glance in the mirror and realize that I’m still wearing the gold-leaf circlet from the last photo shoot. While Hau and Lillie put on their own accessories – a pirate hat and a pair of cat ears, respectively – I ask Sun why he didn’t tell me I was still wearing the circlet.

“It looks really good with your dress,” he says, shooting me a half-smile. “I thought you should keep it on.”

“You didn’t even notice I was still wearing it, did you?”

“B-because it matches so well!”

When we finish the photoshoot and put our accessories back on the table, I move to take the circlet off. Sun catches my hand before I can.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said that it looks good,” he says. “Keep wearing it! It looks really pretty on you.”

I roll my eyes, even as the compliment warms my insides. “That’s stealing, Sun. I’m not stealing the photo booth’s accessories.”

“Well, you can put it back before we leave,” he says, looking at me with pleading eyes. “Please? I love the way it looks on you.”

Even in the dim light, I can see the way Sun’s face flushes as the words leave his mouth. I pretend that I don’t feel my face similarly heating up and adjust the circlet on my head. “Alright,” I say. “I’ll keep it on until we leave.”

Sun beams at me, and we walk over to Hau and Lillie. They’ve already retrieved the photo strips from the machine and give one to me and Sun. These pictures are a little less interesting than the ones Sun and I took together, in my opinion: the four of us standing in a line, Sun’s arm around me and Hau’s arm around Lillie; Sun poking his head over Hau’s shoulder while Lillie’s tilting her head away from them and I’m crouching down in the front of the frame, half-hidden behind the shield; Hau and Lillie leaning against each other while Sun’s resting his head on top of mine, and I’m shrugging my shoulders and grinning. “They’re very cute,” Lillie says, and the rest of us nod in agreement.

Just then, the introduction to a song that I recognize begins to play. It’s been around since I was in elementary school, and it’s one of the handful of songs that I actually know the choreography of. It’s simple, repetitive, and really catchy – so I can’t help but bounce on my feet when I hear it come on over the speakers.

“C’mon!” I tell Sun with a breathless laugh. I don’t bother to make sure he’s following before I dash off in the direction of the dance floor, picking my skirt up as I go.

Everyone remaining on the dance floor is dancing in sync to the song – or trying to, at least. I jump in near the edge of the pack while they’re doing a series of kicks, so I can join in when they get to the turn. By the time the turn is complete, I’ve become seamlessly integrated into the group, and we start sidestepping as one giant mass of dancers. This synchronicity has always been my favorite part of dancing to this song; everyone can add their own flair to the motions, but the core movements are still the same. There’s something soothing about being able to fit into the larger group while still maintaining individuality that I’ve always appreciated.

Ms. Wicke would probably say that there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

After another turn, I discover that Sun joined in on the dance at some point and is standing beside me. He grins when he sees me looking at him. “Good song!” he yells over the music. I merely nod, since I’m starting to turn away from him and he wouldn’t be able to hear a response from me now.

As the song continues, I spot some other familiar faces in the crowd: Kiawe and Mallow, dancing together at the front; Sophocles, stumbling over his feet every now and then, but strangely there’s no Lana in sight; Mina and Ilima, the latter of which is throwing in a fancy hand motion at the end of every set of movements. Hau and Lillie eventually join us, halfway through the song. Sun starts shooting funny faces at me when we’re moving next to each other, and I alternate between sending him smirks and eyerolls back.

Eventually, the song ends, and a country song starts playing in its place. There are a few moments where everyone is just milling around on the dance floor, deciding whether to stay or to go, and a large chunk of people decide to leave the floor. Sun and I exchange glances and, with a shrug and a smile, decide to stay on the significantly less crowded dance floor.

A few songs later, the DJ – who either has been strangely silent this whole dance, or just didn’t sound important enough for me to pay attention to him – tells everyone to grab their dates and get out to the dance floor, because it’s time for the last slow song of the night. Sun turns to me and offers out his hand with a smile that’s noticeably less exuberant than most of the ones he’s been giving me tonight.

“Miss Customer,” he says softly, “may I have this dance?”

My heart flutters nervously in my chest, but I smile and take his hand. “Of course, Sun.”

And when it’s only then that his smile grows to its usual size, I realize that he must have been nervous that I would turn him down.

I always knew in some part of my brain that I would be slow dancing with Sun at some point tonight. That’s the main attraction at dances like this, after all. But it’s not until we’re actually out there on the dance floor, the slow song starting to play over the speakers, that it really hits me.

I’m about to slow dance. With _Sun_. And I’m _so_ not emotionally prepared for this.

After a little bit of fumbling awkwardness as we figure out where to put our hands, we’re just standing there, swaying to the music. My eyes flit to the other couples, who are standing around doing much of the same. Sun has one hand on my waist and one hand on my shoulder; my skin tingles where his hand makes contact. I glance down at Sun’s torso. Both of my hands are resting just above his hips. I slowly let my gaze trail up his body, mustering up the courage to meet his eyes. When I finally do, he’s looking at something past my shoulder. I stare at them for a few moments – I never really noticed their color before; they’re a lighter gray than mine – but when his gaze snaps to mine, I instinctively look away.

Why am I so nervous? It’s just Sun. We’re just slow dancing. That’s pretty hard to screw up. Even if I do, he’s not really going to care. I bring my eyes back up to meet his and fight every muscle in my body that screams at me to look away. He smiles, and my heart pounds in my chest. I’m suddenly aware that there’s less than two feet of distance between me and Sun. It’s not like we’ve never been this close before, but there’s something different about it when we’re facing each other and swaying to the music like this. It’s more personal, more private. It’s significant. It’s special.

The longer the song goes on, the more relaxed I feel. My eyes flutter closed as we sway with the beat of the song. It’s not until Sun shifts his hands, locking them together behind my neck, that I open my eyes and realize I’ve been subconsciously drifting closer to him the whole time.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, so quietly that I can barely hear it over the music.

“This is nice,” I echo, letting my smile stretch all the way across my face for the first time tonight.

When the song ends, it’s too soon. Sun’s arms drop from around my neck, and I slowly let go of his waist. But the combination of all the social interactions I’ve had, the calming melody of the slow song, and the emotions that I’ve been feeling tonight finally catch up to me, and I can’t hold back a huge yawn after I let him go.

“Are you tired?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I admit.

Sun slips his phone out of an inside pocket of his jacket – and wow, I’ve never been so jealous of a man’s suit jacket before – and checks the time. “It’s past eleven – the lock-in is over,” he says. “Do you want to head out?”

I nod, and Sun offers to go grab our shoes from the window where we discarded them. I had almost forgotten that we’d taken them off at all. I remind him to grab my shawl, too. We put on our shoes and I put on my shawl, and then we join the crowd of people who have also decided that now is a great time to leave the dance.

Trying to fit so many people through a single pair of doors all at once is a slow process, and I find myself swaying on my feet a little as we wait. Sun glances over at me and says, “You can use my shoulder if you want.”

I blink dazedly at him. “What?”

“Lean on my shoulder, if you want,” he offers. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet.”

I blink a couple more times before deciding that I wouldn’t mind having a shoulder to lean on, and I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. He shuffles forward a bit then, and I decide that this isn’t the most comfortable position. I adjust my shawl so it hangs more over my shoulders than my arms, throw my arms around Sun, and turn my head so my cheek rests on his shoulder. I feel him shift a little underneath me – perhaps turning his head so he can look at me – but I keep my eyes shut for the rest of our shuffle out of the ballroom.

Finally, Sun pats my arm and says, “Hey, Moon…wakey wakey…”

I yawn and blink my eyes open as I let go of Sun. We’re now outside of the ballroom where it’s a lot less congested, so we can walk at a normal pace. “Thank you,” I murmur. Sun just smiles.

We walk together back to the parking lot of the restaurant, and Sun gives me back my keys and wallet. I half expect him to leave me there and head back to his car. But he asks me where I parked and walks with me back to my car. After I open the door, he clears his throat, and I turn back to look at him.

He rocks a little on his feet and says, “Text me when you get home so I know you made it safely, okay?”

“What a gentleman,” I smirk.

Sun blushes. “But, seriously,” he says, “promise me you’ll text?”

“I promise,” I say.

Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I impulsively lean forward and give Sun a little kiss on the cheek.

He gapes at me, and I quickly jump into my car before he remembers how to speak. I turn my keys in the ignition and bring the car out of park before looking back towards Sun. His expression still hasn’t changed. I offer him a shy smile and a wave before pulling out of the parking space and driving away.

It’s not until I’m halfway home that I realize I never returned the gold-leaf circlet to the photo booth. 

* * *

> **Moon:** I’m home
> 
> **Sun:** great! :D
> 
> **S:** so
> 
> **S:** how was your first school dance
> 
> **S:** did you have fun?
> 
> **S:** moon?
> 
> **M:** Yeah
> 
> **S:** really
> 
> **S:** you were typing for like
> 
> **S:** 20 minutes
> 
> **S:** and all you have to say is yeah?
> 
> **M:** I’m not having this conversation over text
> 
> **S:** wait what does that mean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For simplicity’s sake, I’ve been trying to avoid referencing actual pop culture in this story, substituting Pokémon-themed references instead or just making stuff up. However, the “disc-shaped shield” and matching sunglasses in this chapter are a reference to Captain America – I held a Cap shield and wore Cap sunglasses in my own photo booth pics at prom – and the song that Moon’s excited to dance to is absolutely intended to be the Cupid Shuffle. I cannot resist dancing to that song whenever I hear it. It’s a curse.
> 
> Whatever could Moon mean by that cryptic last text? Find out...sometime next week!


	5. Got a Date? (redux)

The phone only rings twice before going to voicemail.

I pull my phone away from my ear and stare at it in bewilderment for a moment. He _rejected _my call? Granted, I’ve never actually called Sun before, but he doesn’t strike me as the type to have anxiety over answering a phone call. I hang up the phone and lean back against the armrest of the couch. Maybe I don’t know Sun as well as–

My phone is ringing again. I bolt upright. It’s Sun.

“Hey,” I say into the receiver.

“I–I’m really sorry about that,” he says immediately. “I wasn’t expecting a call so when my phone started ringing…I just kinda…panicked and accidentally rejected it.”

“Since when do you panic about _anything_?” I snort.

“H-hey, it’s a reasonable response when you’re getting called by the person who just sent you the most cryptic text in the world!” he says defensively. I think his voice rose an octave in pitch over the course of that sentence.

“Yeah, okay, maybe not my brightest idea,” I admit. “I just didn’t know how to properly thank you over text.”

“Thank me?”

“Thank you,” I say. “For asking me to the dance…for encouraging me to relax…for showing me how to have fun…for dancing with me…just, thank you for everything.”

For a few moments, I hear nothing but heavy breaths on the other side of the line. I start anxiously tapping my foot on the ground. Finally, Sun says with a little laugh, “Wow, Moon. I don’t know what to say to that.”

I relax almost instantly. “You could try a ‘you’re welcome’,” I tease.

“Okay. You’re welcome,” he says happily. I can imagine the big smile that’s probably on his face right now. “I’m glad you enjoyed it!”

“I only enjoyed it because I went with you,” I say. And then, to distract him from how cheesy that line sounded, I add, “I still think dances are overrated, though.”

Sun laughs. “Guess you think parties are overrated, too?”

“Yeah,” I say, twirling a flyaway strand of hair around my finger. “If I’m gonna go to a social event, I’d rather it be something smaller scale. Like, a movie or a picnic.”

“Do you wanna go see a movie with me next Friday?” Sun asks abruptly.

The question startles me, and I freeze with my hand in my hair. It’s asked with the same suddenness that he had when asking me to prom. Apparently, I wait too long to give him an answer, because he continues worriedly, “Moon? Are you okay? It sounds like you, uh, stopped breathing there. You’re not dead, right?”

“No,” I say, a little too airily. “No, I’m alive. I’m, um…just a little surprised. Is this…are you…asking me on a date?”

“I figured you could pick the movie,” Sun says, which doesn’t answer my question in the slightest. “Is there something playing now that you wanna see?”

I shrug, even though I know he can’t see it. “I haven’t been paying much attention to what’s in theaters now. I’d have to look up what’s playing.”

“So…is that a yes to the date?” Sun asks hopefully.

“So it _is_ a date now?”

He makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat that sounds like a cross between a sigh and a door creaking open. “Okay, yes, it’s a date, Moon, please just answer the question.”

“Yeah, delivery boy, I’ll go with you,” I say with a soft smile.

“Oh, thank God,” he says, releasing a loud breath. “With all the deflecting you were doing I was afraid you were going to say no.”

“I just didn’t want to make any assumptions,” I say, shrugging. “I’ve never been asked on a date before.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to make extra sure that it’s a great one!” Sun says enthusiastically.

“I’m sure you will,” I say, stifling a yawn.

“I guess I should let you go to sleep now, huh,” Sun says. “Let me know once you pick out a movie you want to see, alright?”

“Sure thing, Sun,” I say. “Good night.”

“Oh – oh! One more thing, before I forget,” Sun adds quickly. “I meant to tell you back at the dance, but…you looked really beautiful tonight.”

I feel my cheeks heat up. “I…th-thanks. You looked nice too.”

“Good night, Moon,” he says with a little chuckle.

“Night,” I respond. I hang up the phone and a grin begins to spread across my face.

If I had a great night with Sun tonight, then next week’s going to be even better.

* * *

> **Sun:** does this mean we’re dating now
> 
> **Moon:** We haven’t even BEEN on that date yet, delivery boy, chill
> 
> **M:** …but if anyone asks, yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the main story! Thank you so much for reading. If you enjoyed it, please leave a comment to let me know! ♥
> 
> There will be a bonus chapter that's partially written already - it's from Sun's perspective. But I want to work on some other projects before Sword and Shield come out next week (:O!!) since I won't be getting any writing done after the games' release. So, I don't know when I'll have the bonus chapter ready. Please subscribe to the story or follow me on [tumblr](stormspe.tumblr.com) to know when that comes out!


	6. Bonus - Sun's Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the hiatus on this story went a _little_ longer than planned...but it's alright because this is just a bonus chapter ;) It takes place around the same time as chapters 1 and 2 though, so you might want to go back and reread those for context!
> 
> Special thanks to [Team_Cap](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Team_Cap/pseuds/Team_Cap) for beta reading this chapter for me <3

“Do you wanna go to prom with me?” I blurt out. Moon turns to me, an indecipherable expression on her face. I don’t think she’s appalled, at least, which is a good sign. It’s an even better sign when she smiles.

“Sure, Sun. I’d love to go with you.”

I let out a slightly unsteady laugh. “Great! Great. That’s…great.”

I smile at her, but she looks away. Oh, no. Is she regretting saying yes already? I’ve been wanting to ask her to prom for weeks now, but I could never work up the courage to bring it up. I know that she hates dances, and I was afraid that she wouldn’t even entertain the notion of going to prom with me. I _ had _ a whole speech planned out, complete with a mini-essay of all the reasons why she should go to prom with me even though she hates dances – not exactly my style, but I thought she might find something that’s not impromptu more convincing. But then the perfect opportunity just fell into my lap, and…well, I couldn’t pass it up. But she seems nervous now, and no one else is saying anything. I’m starting to wonder if I still did something wrong. Is it too late to pull out that speech and start throwing out some of those talking points?

Fortunately, my phone picks that moment to buzz with an incoming text. I pull it out of my pocket and glance at the notification – it’s from Kiawe – but no one else needs to know that.

“Oh, look! It’s…it’s my dad,” I say, leaping to my feet. “Gotta go. Uh, Moon, I’ll text you later to figure out the logistics, okay?”

She offers me a smile that assures me that she’s not suddenly getting cold feet about the prom thing. “Yeah, that’s fine. Talk to you later.”

I quickly gather my things and dart to the door. It opens just before I reach it, and I nearly run into Olivia. I give her a great big smile as I slip by, out into the hall. Maybe it was a little overeager of a smile for a teacher to see, but I can’t help it. It’s finally hitting me what just happened. I’m going to prom with Moon!

I gotta share the news with somebody. I unlock my phone and quickly shoot off a text to Kiawe, not even bothering to read the message he sent me. I’ll read it later when the high from this has worn off. I skip down the hall, grinning from ear to ear. I’m not really looking where I’m going when I turn the corner to the science wing and I bump into Ryuki, a junior I know from anime club.

“Sorry!” I say, continuing down the hall.

“What’re you so excited about?” he calls after me.

“Just asked Moon to prom and she said yes!” I exclaim gleefully over my shoulder.

“Prom is overrated!” Ryuki shouts back.

I reach the elevator and press the button to call it, then turn back around to face Ryuki. He’s still standing where I bumped into him, arms folded and a scowl on his face. “Are you still salty that they won’t let you DJ for prom?” I ask.

“You throw an anime opening that nobody requested in the tracklist _ one time _ and suddenly it’s ‘your services are not required’ for every formal dance the school hosts,” he complains.

I shrug. “You can still do the orientation dance, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” he declares. “Did you hear who they hired instead? Some guy from Johto Community College. The _ community college_!”

The elevator dings to announce its arrival. “I didn’t know that,” I say, backing into the elevator.

“Am I really second fiddle to a community college kid!? Principal Oak is just _ mocking _ me now, I swear–” Ryuki’s tirade is blessedly cut off by the closing of the elevator doors.

I take the elevator up to the third floor, where my dad’s classroom is located. He and my mom usually stay about an hour or two after school, taking care of whatever teacher-y things they need to get done. It’s pretty quiet up in their labs, so I usually come up to work in there if I need to work in an environment that’s a little less social than Olivia’s study space.

“Hey, Dad!” I greet him, bounding into the room and throwing my backpack down on one of the lab tables. It looks like his bio classes were doing a lab today, and he’s cleaning up after his last period class.

“Hey, Sun, great timing!” he says, tossing a wet rag at me. “Can you wipe off the lab tables for me?”

“Sure,” I say, getting to work. “What were the little fishies working on today?”

“Structure of a cell,” Dad says, bringing a tray full of microscope slides to the sink. “Plant versus animal cells, prokaryotes versus eukaryotes, that kinda thing.”

I nod sagely. “Sounds…_incredibly _boring.”

Dad chuckles. “I’d protest that, but most of the students said the exact same thing.”

We continue our cleaning in silence for a while. Just as I’m wiping down the last lab table, there’s a knock on the door. My mom sticks her head in through the doorway. “Kukui,” she says in a singsong voice. “I want my microscopes back!”

Dad chuckles again. “I’ll give them back once I finish cleaning them, honey.”

“Well, maybe you should clean them faster,” Mom says teasingly, waggling a finger at Dad. Just then, she notices me in the corner of the room. “Oh, hi, Sun!” she grins. She comes over to my side of the room, wraps me up in a big hug, and gives me a kiss on the forehead. Mom’s always been really physically affectionate. “How was school today, honey?”

“It was alright,” I say, tossing the rag into a sink. “But after school was even better!”

“Aw, I’m glad that you like spending time with your dear old dad that much,” Dad says, grinning.

“Not what I meant,” I say, frowning. “I would rather have been doing literally anything else other than cleaning lab tables.”

“Then tell me, why _ did _ you come up to my room so early?” Dad asks.

“As much as I’d love to hear the answer to that,” Mom interrupts, “I really do need to get these microscopes back to my room. I have a student who’s making up a lab after school today, and she needs a microscope for it.”

“Wait, this student has been waiting in your room for a microscope this whole time?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Mom laughs.

“Why didn’t you mention that earlier?” Dad yelps, frantically loading microscopes onto the two microscope carts.

“Well, I didn’t want to pass up the chance to talk to my favorite boys,” Mom says, giving my hair a ruffle and my dad a smooch. She helps Dad finish loading up the microscopes and the two of them wheel the carts out of the classroom, promising to be back soon.

Professor Kukui and Professor Burnet aren’t my biological mom and dad; they adopted me when I was five. They’ve raised me since then, though, and they gave me Professor Kukui’s last name. They’re the only parents that I remember having, and the best family I could have asked for. I share everything with them, and they’re always super supportive of me. So when they come back after returning the microscopes, I eagerly share with them the great news.

“Oh, sweetie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!” Mom says, giving me another kiss on the forehead. “We just gotta get you ready for prom in a week, huh?”

“We’re both proud of you,” Dad adds, ruffling my hair. “Have you told Acerola yet?”

“What?”

“That you can’t go to prom with her.”

Oh.

Right.

In all the excitement of getting to go to prom with the girl I like, I completely forgot about the fact that I’d already been asked to prom. By Acerola. Two weeks ago. And I didn’t tell her no, but I didn’t tell her yes either. So now that I’m officially going to prom with Moon, it would be polite to tell her that I can’t go to prom with her. There’s just one problem.

I lie down on one of the lab tables and throw an arm over my eyes. “I don’t want to.”

“Well, you need to,” Mom says. “It’s rude to just leave her hanging like that.”

“She already probably figured it out by now,” I argue. “There’s no need to officially turn her down.”

“It would give her some closure. And the chance to apologize for taking so long to get back to her,” Mom says. She drops my phone into the open palm of my hand. “You have her number, right? Go ahead and give her a call.”

I sigh. I know she’s right. She always is. So, after lying on the lab table for several more minutes, composing myself so I won’t sound so grumpy when I call her, I sit up and dial Acerola’s number.

She answers on the fourth ring. “Hey, Sun. What’s up.” Her voice sounds flat, a far cry from her usual cheerful tone. Is she in a bad mood? Maybe now’s not the best time to give her bad news, but…I don’t want to have to do this a second time. I power through.

“Um, so, remember when you asked me to prom a couple of weeks ago, and I said that I’d get back to you on that?” I start. “Well, this is me getting back to you.”

“Yeah?’ she asks flatly.

“Uh…I can’t.”

“I know,” she says, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

“H-huh?” I stammer. “Wha– you _ know_?”

“Yeah,” she says curtly. “I’m helping Moon to pick out her dress right now.”

“Oh.” I guess that makes my job easier. “Well, you understand, right?”

“I _ understand _ that you asked her on an impulsive decision,” Acerola snaps. “If you didn’t want to go with me to prom, you could have just said so.”

“What? No, no, Acerola, that’s not…” I flounder, trying to figure out how to start explaining that she’s got it all wrong. Her second claim is easiest to debunk. “Look, I was gonna go with you if Moon had said no! Honest!”

“So you waited two whole weeks to ask her?”

“Well, I didn’t know that she was interested in going to prom at all until today,” I explain.

“Sun, that _ really _ doesn’t help your case,” Acerola growls. “You literally just decided today that you’d ask her to prom?”

“No! I was still going to ask her even if she had never said that! I was just…I was…” I let out a long sigh and run a hand through my hair. I need to think for a second about how to explain myself instead of just spewing out the first thing that comes to mind and shoving my foot deeper and deeper into my mouth. Finally, I think I have a decent explanation. “I really like Moon, okay? And I always wanted to go to prom with her. But I knew that she doesn’t like dances, so…I was afraid to ask her, and like, offend her or something.”

“You’re very good at that,” Acerola deadpans.

“Yeah. Well.” I chuckle a little nervously. “That’s what I was thinking. So when you asked me to prom, I didn’t want to say yes right away because, well, what if I asked Moon and she said yes? So I figured I’d ask Moon and if she said yes, I’d tell you no, but if Moon said no, I’d tell you yes. That was my plan. I just…couldn’t find a lot of opportunities to ask her, and when the opportunity did come up, I kept chickening out.”

Acerola laughs. “Who would have thought that Sun ‘No-Filter’ Kukui would finally get his filter clogged, huh?”

I blink a few times, trying to figure out what she means by that. I can’t. “What?”

“I’ve never heard you being so considerate of someone else’s feelings before. You must _ really _like Moon.” 

I splutter a little, trying to come up with a response to that and failing miserably.

Acerola just laughs even more. “Look, it’s all good. It sounds like you’re gonna be happy going with Moon to prom, and that’s all I need to hear.”

“Uh, yeah,” I say. It feels wrong to just end the conversation there, and I think back to what my mom was talking about earlier. “Look, Acerola, I’m sorry I waited so long just to tell you no…”

“I forgive you,” she says simply. “Honestly, I was almost expecting that you wouldn’t apologize at all.”

“H-hey, I’m not _ that _ inconsiderate–”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Acerola interrupts me. “But seriously, thanks for apologizing. And, uh, officially telling me no.”

“Welcome.”

“Just promise me that you’ll show her a good time, got it?”

“Of course!” I declare.

“Good,” Acerola says emphatically. “Now, I need to go make sure your date is wearing a drop-dead gorgeous dress to prom, so I’ll see you next week, awright?”

“Yeah! Yeah. See you next week,” I say, hanging up.

I lean back on the lab table, putting my hands under my head. A big smile spreads across my face. Today feels almost surreal, but in the best possible way. I’m going to senior prom with _ Moon_, Acerola isn’t mad at me for not going to prom with her, and Hau and I have one week to finish Olivia’s project. Shit, next week’s going to be hell, isn’t it?

But when Friday finally comes around…it’s all gonna be worth it. And that’s a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, did you ask for found family feels in your Delivery prom fic? No? Too bad, you're getting them anyways.
> 
> Fun fact, the conversation between Sun and Acerola was actually the first thing that I wrote for this whole fic, and there were only a couple lines that had to be added to the original draft. So...yeah, that convo is one I've been dying to share for a long time <3
> 
> If you're reading this, I just want to thank you for making it this far!! I love and appreciate every one of you beautiful readers. This fic wound up being twice as long as I thought it would be, but I did have a lot of fun with it and I hope you did too. I'll love it if you leave me a comment telling me your thoughts. <3 <3 <3 
> 
> Stay safe, happy, and healthy! ~Storm


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